


That's Not Me

by Nadja_Lee



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Drug Use, Homelessness, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Poverty, Racism, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-08-04
Updated: 2001-08-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadja_Lee/pseuds/Nadja_Lee
Summary: While Scott rethinks his feelings for Logan and his own sexuality he remembers his childhood, his time on the streets and how he came to live with Xavier.Set at the end of the first X-Men movie.
Relationships: Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	That's Not Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Mo for the Beta. You're the best!
> 
> This story takes up such subjects as street life, drug use, abuse, racism and homosexuality.

**That's Not Me**

There he goes, right past where I sit and out the door.

The angry thought; 'He didn't even say goodbye,' enters my mind before I can stop it.

I shake my head. Why would he say farewell to me?

I watch as Rogue stops him and they talk. My eyes are fixed on him though I try to turn away;  
admire his long legs, a wonderful ass, great chest...Stop!

What the fuck am I doing? My face blushes almost as red as my shades.

Have I lost my mind? I can't sit here and.…want a man like that!

I just can't. That's not me!

My eyes find Jean's but she looks at the TV.

She is my girlfriend, I...I try to love her. I want to love her. I...do not love her. Why? I don't know. Well, maybe I do. I'm rarely this honest with myself, it only brings me a lot of grief and questions I can't and won't go find the answers to. I don't look back for there is nothing to look back at. I don't want to remember, I push it away, I try to forget. But I can't. I can't forget.

I remember a morning when I was 10. Mom was making breakfast and Dad was half reading his paper. Then suddenly he said;

" They want me to fly with Richardson. Can you believe that?! How in the world they ever let him join the Air Force is beyond me." His tone was angry.

Mom looked over at me as if it is something I shouldn't know.

" Chris, I don't think..." she began in her soft voice but he interrupted her.

" How can they even let him fly? I mean, what should I call him? Him...her? It? I tell you, it is not natural for two men to be together. Hell, they aren't even men," he was warming up to a full blown speech on what was to be only one of many on the subject.

" It is against the will of God," Mom agreed, crossing herself as if from a great evil. " They'll go straight to Hell, they will!"

" Having them in the Military is more of a disgrace than letting women in," Dad said when his eyes suddenly caught the clock and he had to run off.

I didn't have a bad childhood, not at all. Dad could be… well, he was often away and when he was home he was determined to "make a man" out of me. I remember lying in my bed at night after I had been sent to my room after punishment for something or another. Mom would sneak up with food to me if I had been sent away before dinner. She'd then proceed to tell me about how important it was that I did as Dad said, that God wanted all children to be obedient. Mom was very into religion, going to church with me for all the years I lived at home. I worked hard in school, I so wanted to make father proud. Though no matter how hard I worked he never seemed quite satisfied.

It was in High School it started. I began to take more notice of the boys in my class than the girls. I began to have dreams and fantasies I even now don't dare to say out loud. I began to feel isolated and alone, wrong and.…guilty. I was sure God would punish me for my thoughts. I tried to forget what I thought, what I dreamt. I joined the Football team, became Captain, I dated girls, I put a lot of energy into my schoolwork. I did all the "normal" things yet no matter what I did, at night my thoughts always returned to the same thing, to the same place and I wanted to scream to make those thoughts go away.

Not long after I began to have great headaches and I was relieved to have something to concentrate on other than thoughts which I was sure would earn me a place in Hell as my mother had said. Then it happened; my prom dance turned into a nightmare even worse than the girl I had dragged with me.

My headache went from a great pain to pure agony and I ran to the bathroom. I fell to the floor from the pain and when I opened my eyes again red energy escaped them. It took a few seconds for me to close my eyes again; it was as if everything was happening in a haze. Suddenly there were cops and ambulances all over the school. 5 people, cops, found me on the floor of the bathroom, my eyes tightly closed, tears forcing their way out though the closed lids. They began to hit and kick me,  
I tried to roll away from them. They yelled insults at me I didn't understand, all happening in a haze of confusion and pain.

What exactly happened that fateful night is still unclear to me. The next I knew I woke up on a small bed. My body hurt all over and I felt a wetness, probably blood, on my lip as I ran my hand over it. Before I had time to think I instinctually tried to open my eyes but couldn't. Some kind of tape was put on them and as I felt my way I felt a metal ring over my eyes all the way around my head.

Fear ran through me and I curled up in the corner of the bed, hugging my legs under me. I tried to listen for sounds I knew, Mom or Dad's voice but only strange sounds of doors and locks met me. I felt my way around the bed and felt metal bars next to it; I had to be in a prison cell.

I tried to contain my tears, my father's "boys don't cry" running through my head but I couldn't. Tears forced their way through the metal band and down my cheeks. Maybe this is my  
punishment, I thought.  
For my dreams, my thoughts...

It felt like I have been sitting there, feeling all alone and very miserable in the cell for days when finally I heard my parents' voices. What happened next I'll never forget no matter how hard I try.

" Mom?" I ask softly, quickly wiping away my tears so Dad shall not see them.

" Is this your son?" a stranger's voice asks.

" He destroyed the School?" Dad's voice, cold and hard.

" My darling boy," Mom's soft, whispered voice.

" I'm so sorry," I try to contain my tears but they're clear in my voice anyway.

" He destroyed the school, 34 were wounded and 4 killed," the stranger's voice again, probably a cop.

" Killed?" I ask shocked. Had I killed someone? Good God...what had I done? What kind of monster was I?

" So, is he your son?" the stranger again but I barely notice. Suddenly I feel a hand touch me and I flick away.

" It is I," Mom whispers, soft and sad. I take her hand and hold it, sitting myself as close to the bars as I can. She hugs me through the bars.

" Oh, my dear son. May God have mercy on your soul," she must be crying, I can hear it in her voice.

" No. He isn't my son. Not anymore," Dad's cold voice say and I feel like I have died. What is he saying? What is he saying?!

" Chris," Mom's voice, pleading.

" Come on, Ann," Dad again. Suddenly Mom's warm arms are pulled back and never have I felt so cold and alone.

" Mom! Mom, come back," I yell, tears running down my cheeks.

" I love you, son. Be strong. And may God be with you. Always," Mom's last words as she disappears.

The words; " May God be with you because I can't" hangs unspoken in the air between us.

" MOM!" I scream. I hear a door close and only silence answers me.

" Mom," I whisper and cry. Never have I cried so much.

I must have fallen asleep for next I wake I hear new voices.

" Is this him?" someone asks.

" Yes." Another voice. The sound of a key being turned in the lock. I pull back into the corner.

" Who are you? What do you want?" I ask, trying to make my voice sound tough but it sounds like I'm about to break down which I also am. Someone takes my arms and forces me off the bed and  
onto the floor.

" No. Let me go," I try to kick out after them but as I can't see them I don't have much success. My hands are forced behind my back and cuffed together. Only now do I realise that the people around me must be cops which would make me...a criminal?!

I'm led to a car and put into the back. They left me! Mom and Dad abandoned me. It is all I can think off. Sure, I had heard Mom and Dad talk about mutants. Mutants were the others, something which might happen to the neighbor's children but never yours. Mutants; freak of nature, the Devil's children. All Dad and Mom's words come rushing back as I finally know; I am a mutant; a freak. My punishment I think. For my impure thoughts on the inside; I am now as impure on the outside.

In my misery I don't feel the energy from my eyes which I instinctively try to open all the time having finally become so great that it overcomes the tape and the metal. The red energy leaves my eyes and cuts the car right in two. The car stops at once and I quickly close my eyes. Oh, no. I did it again. I'm cursed. For what feels like forever I just sit still hoping it'll all go away until I force myself to move. As I move the rest of the metal band falls off my head.

" Are...are you alright?" I ask. When my eyes were open I had seen 2 men: one chauffeur and one passenger. No answer. Keeping my eyes tightly closed I finally find my way out of the car. I feel my way to the front seat.

" Are you alright?" I ask again as I try to feel on the man.

My hands finds his face and I quickly withdraw my hand but when he says nothing I feel his face again. His cheek, his nose, his cheek...God! Wetness on my fingers...Shaking I pull back.

Half a face. He has only half a face. My beam must have been so wide that it cut even the two men in half; half a face. God. I turn around and promptly throws up what little I have left in my stomach. After what feels like a long time I get myself pulled so much together that I wonder what to do. Run, just run. On shaky legs I begin to leave the car behind. I walk slowly and go to the side of the road so I can feel the grass that grows next to the road so I know I'm not walking in the middle of the road. I don't know which way I'm walking, I just walk. My thoughts are confused and conflicted. I cry with no thoughts in my head. Every time I think about what happened I want to scream, to hit something, to cry...it all gets so confusing so I clear my head of all thoughts,

forbidding them to enter.  
I walk what feels like forever; traffic gets heavier and I must be nearing a town. I have no idea if it's night or day but finally I must be in town. I smell food and I realise that I haven't eaten since  
the prom...last night. Two days ago I was Football captain, getting high scores in tests, going towards University and now...Now, I'm homeless, alone, abandoned...lost. I remember I had some cash in my pocket in these pants and I search for it but do not find it. The cops must have taken it.  
My ribs really begin to hurt after the long walk due to the cops' mistreatment and I need to sit down. I must look very funny as I sit next to a wall in my tuxedo borrowed for the prom. I sit and try to catch my breath as I hear the sound of coins falling. I eagerly search the ground in front of me and find some 6 coins. I try to figure out how much it is by their size but it is hard. Maybe a dollar, max.  
Someone must have thought I was begging. The thought leaves me cold. I need to eat, I want somewhere to sleep...I have to beg for food. I can't seek help; I must be wanted for what happened at the prom...just the thought of the prom and I feel like crying. I can't cope with that now so again I force myself not to think about my past. Instead I stretch out my hands.

" Please? Money for a blind boy?" I force out, need suppressing pride.

After a while I realise that it isn't so hard to beg when you can't look people in the eyes. I must have been sitting there for quite a while until someone blocks the light I feel on my face  
from a streetlamp.

" What are you doing here, punk?" someone asks and I quickly hide my money in my pocket and turn my head in the direction of the sound, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

" I...I," I don't know what to do or say. Suddenly I realise just how helpless I am.

" Leave him alone. Can't you see he's blind?" A strong voice breaks through and I feel relieved.

************  
That was how I came to live with the Warriors, a band of 10, including me, young boys and girls living on the streets. The others looked after me; they helped me to and from the place where I begged and helped me buy food for my money, they made sure I wasn't conned and for 3 years they were all I had.

I tried my luck at stealing but it didn't go very well and Mario Lopez, our leader, had to get me out of a tight spot. Some of the others did drugs, but we had to get money for our own stuff and I never had a lot of money so I never could afford more than a little pot now and then. I did try sniffing glue a couple of times; it was cheaper and it killed the ever-present hunger.

Some of the others told me that they made big money just by giving a blowjob or having sex with someone. I resented it for a long time; it went against everything I thought about myself and had been raised to think was right. But in the end I gave it a try.

Michael, a boy in our group who did it often, set me up with some guy. It should be quick and easy; just a blowjob; how hard could it be? Real hard because I couldn't get myself to do it. Earned myself one of the worst beatings in my life which gave me no sympathy from the gang. Not even from Marie who nursed me back to health for the some 3 weeks it took for me to be able to take care of myself again for just the most basic things. The others called me a fool for saying no to the job but I felt proud; a beating was...well, manly.

It wasn't as humiliating as selling sex.  
I remember talking with Marie about it and she got mad at me; asking if I thought it wasn't just as  
humiliating for her to sell herself as it was for a man? I said it wasn't the same and she almost took my head off with her knife. Now I know she was right, then I didn't dare analyze myself or my actions. Mostly I still don't but now...I know I was afraid that somehow, somewhere deep in my mind I'll like being with a man and I felt disgusted and dirty.  
I went back to begging and one day a man passed me I was sure was my father; I recognised his voice. It wasn't unlikely as I knew I was just in the next town. I reached out for him and called to him but he walked on, not even a coin did he leave behind. I remember his words as if it was yesterday it happened;

" Dad? Dad, is it you? It's me…Scott," I said and reached out my hands in his direction.

" Do you know him?" a stranger's voice asked.

" No. I have no children. My son is dead," my father's voice, cold and hard but maybe with a hint of sadness as he walked away.

I was so sad when Brian helped me back that I drank all my money I had saved away up in one night; cursing Dad, cursing the world to Hell and crying. But life went on and I was back to begging.

That was how I met Charles. He offered me food and I went with him though I knew the dangers but I was too hungry to care. I went with Charles to his home, got fed, washed and cleaned up. He offered to let me stay; I quickly agreed, as I had nowhere else to go. He gave me my red shades and for the first time in over 3 years I could see again even if just shades of red.

The first thing I did was to drive out to see my old gang again and invite them back with me. I  
got them all to come with me to Xavier's. Now, 8 years after I went to live with Xavier only three of my old gang members are still alive. As Jean says when I have a difficult student;

" You can force a horse to water but can't make him drink."

Two accidentally took an overdose, three killed themselves and one disappeared, and though I searched for her I never found her again. The life we lived on the streets had marked us all and them  
more than me for I lived there for some 3 years; some of the other Warriors had lived on the streets almost all their lives.

I tried to fit into Xavier's fine school. I finished my High School, I took classes at college and tried  
to get used to not feeling my way around now that I wasn't blind anymore and not hiding food  
from the table as I did for a long time after I went to Xavier's in fear there wouldn't be any food the next day.

I became a teacher at the school and began to date Jean, more out of gratitude as she had been the one to help cure my addiction to drugs, mostly glue, that I hadn't known I had, my anorexia, my anxiety attacks and held me when I awoke screaming in the night. I never told her about my past because I never thought about it but she always seemed to understand.

I couldn't promise her nearness, not even love; I had been through too much to be able to love or open up again and still she understood. She said she did not need all that anyway; just security and someone who'll always be there. That I could give her. Till this day I still do not know her demons nor she mine and frankly I prefer it like that.

Then Logan showed up and destroyed everything. He made me remember, he made me feel again; he made me dream and think again.

Logically I know there is nothing wrong with being gay; I know this. It isn't something you can control...but I can't be gay! I keep hearing my mother's voice in my head that "people like that" are  
the Devil's children and my Dad that it is unnatural and wrong; not even people but...its. Everything is suddenly so confusing and I feel like screaming in a desperate attempt to drown those damn voices in my head. I don't want to think or feel. That is why I have Cyclops; he does none of those things and even better; he has NO past.

I watch as Logan gives Rogue his dog tags and walk out the door. I wonder what he'll think when he sees that I left the keys in my motorcycle and when he reads my letter for him.

It is a short letter, it simply says; " Good luck, Scott."

I hear my motorcycle speed away and smile before I can help it. Maybe it means something that he took the motorcycle. The thought of pleasure is quickly crushed by the voices in my head;

" This is WRONG!"

" You are wrong."

" Unnatural."

" Freak."

" Blasphemer."

I put my hands over my ears and want to scream to stop the voices; to stop thinking.

" You alright?" Jean asks, light concern in her voice.

" Yes," I say and run to the safety of the kitchen. I look out on the road leaving the Mansion.

He is gone. Logan is gone. It is for the better. He doesn't even like me. I can't feel like this. It is better he is gone. It'll make everything much easier. I can't lust after another man, I can't want to touch him, feel him like I do.

It is just wrong.

It is NOT me.

It is not.

An image of Logan fills my mind and a warmth spreads through my entire body.

*Stop it!* I sternly tell myself.

That is NOT me.

It can't be me. I'm not like that.

I'm NOT gay.

That's not me.

Is it?

The End


End file.
